


Solangelo Oneshots/Drabbles

by claire-the-awkward-fangirl (claire_writes_485)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, a lot of first kisses and aus, fluff n angst, idk man, self indulgent oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claire_writes_485/pseuds/claire-the-awkward-fangirl
Summary: Self-indulgent AUs, first kisses, tropes. Oneshots and minifics. Hopefully, updates every other Friday.Lots of fluff, lots of angst, and usually turns very dramatic towards the end: my recipe for a ficlet.Some of these might be republished as full-length fics; it depends on how long it runs and how much potential it has. Enjoy these for the time being, though!





	1. stars, void, and endless purple sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravenclaw Will, Hufflepuff Nico Hogwarts AU featuring blankets, angst, flashbacks, and stargazing. Overly dramatic like all my works, but hope you like it!

Will enjoys the Ravenclaw common room, all blue and bronze and brown. The colors calm him, keep him grounded, he thinks sometimes. At his most pessimistic, he thinks they keep him sane. Of course, the colors aren’t the only things- behind his eyelids are constantly flashing dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, a wicked smile; a silver skull ring that should clash horribly with black and yellow, but doesn’t; black robes and black jeans and black hair and black eyes. Black ink that blossoms across a pair of slim, elegant hands like bruises.

  
Will looks at the clock and frowns, tries to write another sentence for his History of Magic paper. It's not working, though. He keeps on thinking, the kind of thoughts you don't always want in your head, the kind that steal into your brain and whisper false promises.

  
Yesterday, Will could have sworn Nico was looking at him, staring really, but it was just a trick of the light. It must have been. When he turned to look full-on, Nico had already turned to talk to a girl sitting next to him at the Hufflepuff table, and Will couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. Choppy feather-braided hair, perfect, chiseled cheekbones, color-changing eyes and a silver-green tie visible even from a table over. Because Slytherins never sit with Hufflepuffs. Never.

Just like how Hufflepuffs never sit with Ravenclaws.

He forces himself to not think about it.  
  
Will can't wait for lights out. He'll wait for his roommates to fall asleep, then he'll shrug off his pajamas and slip on his warm, dark clothes and fuzzy slippers. Then he'll steal out into the castle. After four and a half years of sneaking around Hogwarts, he knows it like the back of his hand- no, better, he thinks distractedly. How often does he look at the back of his hands?  
  
————————————————————————-  
He walks up to the Astronomy tower, savoring the chills that run into his throat, shivering with adrenaline every time the stairs change. It hurts, the fearful anticipation, but he loves it, absolutely loves the edgy thrill of being awake when no one else is and the skittering jolts of gleeful nerves at breaking the rules.

  
He’s always loved it, however much of a golden boy he's always seemed. Only one person really, fully knows this side of him- one person who sees past the perfect grades and politeness and occasional sarcastic quips. Only Nico, who's been out at all hours of the night with Will, who understands how Will needs to do something dangerous. How he needs to break rules. How, if Will didn't have a person to do these things with, he'd do it alone. Because he craves the rush of adrenaline, because there's no one else he'd rather do it with.  
  
As he gets closer to the observation deck of the Astronomy tower, feet soundless on flagstones worn smooth as water by the passage of time, he inhales silently in excitement. This is when he truly comes alive.  
  
Sitting near the edge, wrapped in black is a small, pale, beautiful boy. His long fingers are tapping absently, tapping, tapping, tapping. He starts when Will places a hand on his shoulder, eyes flashing dark and dangerous and ponytail whipping around as he reaches for his wand. But then his face relaxes out of the terrifying, avenging-angel expression and lights up with that smile, the one that Will would kill to see.  
  
They don't say anything tonight. They don't have to. They just lie under the  blankets together and look at the stars, enjoying the crisply cold November weather. And each other's company. They've been friends since Christmas break first year, Will realizes with a start, and marvels.

He marvels at his eleven-year-old self’s innocence, at his kindness, at the way he trusted so easily.

_Flashback_

Will is eleven years old, and he's scared.

Not only has he just arrived in a new country, where the food and the accents and the people are unfamiliar, but he's just been sent a letter inviting him to...to Hogwarts? What kind of a name even is that?

He's been waiting since he was six and a half for his letter from Ilvermorny. He was supposed to open it with his best friends Lou Ellen and Cecil. Needless to say, he’s more than a little disappointed...and...what's the word?

Uneasy.

That's definitely how he feels staring at the entrance to the Great Hall, he thinks. Professor McGonagall is opening the door, now, having already explained how the Sorting works, and they're filing down the center of the tables. And Will can feel everyone's stares, curious, with more than a touch of steel mixed in. The general buzz of conversation dulls to silence as the first years step in.

As they congregate around the stool at the front of the Great Hall, Will frowns in slight disbelief.

_It's a HAT! What the heck? This is so weird!_

But then McGonagall clears her throat, stands next to the hat, and says a name. And Will won't ever forget that name, he thinks then. It's beautiful sounding, foreign- perhaps Italian or Spanish. Nico di Angelo.

While he muses on this, gaze fixed on his shoes, he hears a voice call out, "Hufflepuff!" And his head snaps up, almost involuntarily, and he sees a boy, short with pale skin and perfect features, and liquid, dark brown eyes. They're hauntingly beautiful, filled with anger and pain, and the boy pulls off the hat almost stubbornly and places it on the stool. And Will's world will never be the same.

And then he hears his name, long after the mysterious boy's gone. "William Solace!"

His heartbeat pounds softly in his ears. Then Professor McGonagall puts the hat on his head, and a voice speaks- straight into his brain.

_Ah. Hello, William._

Will whispers, "C-call me Will." He's scared...but also oddly intrigued.

A hint of wry fascination and amusement colors the voice in his head. _I see. Yes, you have courage aplenty, and oh- definitely not a bad mind. Yes, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would do very well for you, indeed. But there is ambition in you, yes, yearning to prove yourself, to live up to all these role models. And Slytherin would help you- help you very much, indeed. But you're kind, aren't you? Very kind._

Nervous, Will smiles uneasily. "Thanks?"

_Oh, no need. Hmm, where to sort, where to sort? You are a difficult one, aren't you? Well, if nothing else, better be-_

 

The Sorting Hat shouts to the whole room, "RAVENCLAW!" And there are cheers, and Will notices Professor McGonagall looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He smiles nervously and goes to sit at the table decked in blue and bronze, the table that is inexplicably clapping for _him._

 

—————————-

 

That Christmas break, he gets a letter from his mama. He only reads the first two sentences before he sets it back down, angry. And sad.

Dear Will,

I'm touring this break. I'm so sorry you can't come home, darling.

He'd been homesick, and not just for America or for the hot Austin sun, the cool, dry Tennessee hills, the hustle and bustle of New York City. Naomi was his home, and he missed his mother more than he'd ever in his life. It felt strange, being away from her for so long, like a hole cut out of his heart.

So, of course, he goes to the library.

Head down, fiddling with the friendship bracelets piled on his wrists, he walks straight into someone. Eyes wide, he stammers, "Sorry! I-I didn't mean to bump into you, I..."

He trails off. Nico di Angelo is looking at him, glaring really, and Will knows Nico is only eleven and he knows that he shouldn't be this scared. That's the rational part of his brain, and Will usually listens to it.

But there's murder in the other boy's gaze, bloody murder. His irises glint sharply, like light reflecting off the edge of an obsidian blade, and every single thing about him is screaming dangerous. His stance is loose, but Will can tell from the way his knees are bent and the way his fists are clenched that he's ready to go from zero to a hundred in an instant.

Will backs up quickly, too quickly, and falls, scrambling to get up.

Nico can almost smell the fear rolling off this boy in waves, but he can see it (plain as day, really) in his bright blue eyes. So he rolls his own and reaches forward, offering his hand. The blonde boy...Will, Nico remembers- stares at it for a second before taking it.

Once they're both standing up, Nico holds his hand out to Will again, who shakes it. "So, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Nico di Angelo. And you are?"

Will smiles and opens his mouth. _American_ , Nico notes absently. "I'm Will- well, William, but call me Will. Solace. Will Solace is my name." His cheeks are pink, but he still holds Nico's gaze. Without fear, now. Nico smiles in return and spins on his heel, marching away. He stops at the other end of the aisle, looking over his shoulder with a grin. "You coming?"

Will smiles.

_End flashback_

It was different, now. Now, Will had seen heartbreak a million times, struggled with nightmares- Nico’s and his own- and nearly been driven mad by the shadows in his brain.

He’d stood over the sink with a knife, held his wand to his temple, broken into Gryffindor Tower more times than he could count.

And, still, the boy sitting next to him was more important than anything.

Nico di Angelo, his best friend, his secret love. The boy Will had held onto in their darkest times, had seen screaming and crying and mourning, the boy who had seen Will broken and _stayed_.

To Will, that meant more than anything else.


	2. champagne, lemons, and cherry chapstick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and they were roommates. or at least acquaintances. they become roommates later.
> 
> in which nico’s been bullied a lot and will breaks when nico does.
> 
> “and suddenly they find themselves walking aimlessly in the streets around Times Square on New Years Eve. And Will swallows. He doesn't see that terrible look in Nico's eyes right now, the one that's a mixture of fear and anger and helplessness.
> 
> All Will sees is Nico, only Nico. 
> 
> And they stare, drinking in the sight of each other like they're dying men. The way their cheeks are flushed and their eyes are sparkling and suddenly, they are close. But it isn't too close, not anymore. And then their lips are touching, gently at first, then harder, and Nico feels a delicious little tingle run down his spine just as the New Year begins. 
> 
> But neither of them see it happen, or hear the cheers of the crowd around them, because Will's lips taste like champagne and lemons and cherry ChapStick, and Nico doesn't want to breathe.”

Nico is friends with Will. It’s just friendship.

until, one night in early November, it's not.

It's different, somehow, this time. Angrier, more bitter. And then Will, eyes ablaze, yells something angry and hurtful and completely untrue, and Nico flinches, because Will is _right there_ and right there is too close (far, _far_ too close), and he starts crying because every painful memory is coming back in a rush, and Will is suddenly back to himself and no, Nico, no don't cry, _no why stop no please Nico, Neeks, please don't cry..._

Will brushes his hand against Nico's, wanting to calm him down, desperate to help, to fix the damage he's caused to this beautiful, broken boy he loves, and Nico jerks his hand away. And Will is hurt, until he's not. Because every drop has been turned into sheer, white-hot fury, irrational and powerful and all-consuming. But not towards Nico, no, to whoever hurt Nico. Because Will has seen the look in Nico's eyes far too many times, in far too many people he loves, and he only now realizes what it means.

And Nico jerks his hand away, a reflex, just a reflex born of too many sleepless nights and too many times being shoved against a wall by too many different people, and he watches as Will's eyes darken and cloud over with anger. and he is scared, suddenly, scared of Will, his sunshine boy, and neither one speaks.

They sit heavily, and the only sound they hear is ragged breathing and heartbeats.

And then, out of nowhere comes a broken whisper. it's Will's voice, but also not Will's voice, choked and low and utterly devoid of anger or happiness or anything resembling the ever-present sunshine, the infectious edge of a laugh Nico is used to hearing in Will's voice.

"I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry, Nico."

Nico thinks, a little numbly, _You only call me Nico when you're mad. Are you? Mad?_

But suddenly, Nico is crying again, and Will is cradling him on the floor, and Nico is so disgusted with himself oh god he's crying why is he so goddamn _weak_. Will lets Nico bury his face into Will's sweatshirt and sob ugly, wracking, cleansing tears until he falls asleep there, in Will's arms, and Will carries him to his bed.

They don't mention any of it the next day, don't mention how it was the first time they had ever slept in the same apartment, don't mention how Nico never cried after that day. They don't mention how Will woke up at 3 A.M. on the couch to the sound of Nico screaming and jumped awake, running to Nico's bedroom and spending the rest of the night there, or how Nico held onto Will for that single delirious hour that he was awake and dreaming, how he clung to Will like he was drowning and Will was a lifeboat.

They don't mention how Will didn't even think about leaving once, how he laid awake for an hour after Nico was asleep staring at the ceiling with too many memories and feelings and all the other shit that came with being human clamoring for attention in the back of his mind, and the one thing he needed to forget was the only thing he could think about.

And they tried to go back to how it was, back to the easy, lighthearted, meaningless conversations and the equally meaningless friendship, but both of them know that nothing will ever be the same.

So they go through the motions for the next few months, wrapping themselves up in sweet memories, and suddenly they find themselves walking aimlessly in the streets around Times Square on New Years Eve. And Will swallows. He doesn't see that terrible look in Nico's eyes right now, the one that's a mixture of fear and anger and helplessness.

All Will sees is Nico, only Nico.

And they stare, drinking in the sight of each other like they're dying men. The way their cheeks are flushed and their eyes are sparkling and suddenly, they are close. But it isn't too close, not anymore. And then their lips are touching, gently at first, then harder, and Nico feels a delicious little tingle run down his spine just as the New Year begins.

But neither of them see it happen, or hear the cheers of the crowd around them, because Will's lips taste like champagne and lemons and cherry ChapStick, and Nico doesn't want to breathe.

He pulls away, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, staring into Will's eyes.

And Will could get used to this, to seeing Nico dizzy from his kiss and weak in the knees (but not from lack of air) while he himself was high, drunk off the other man's touch.

Nico was close enough to count Will's freckles (twenty-seven sprinkled across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose), and, after what seemed like an eon, Nico said, his voice a little unsteady, "I think I'm in love with you."

And Will breathed out, eyes shining, "Oh, Neeks."

Nico didn't think he needed to hear the "I'm in love with you, too." that Will whispered in his ear. But he did hear it, and he discovered as Will sucked ever-so-slightly on his bottom lip that he needed it, too.

And he needed Will.

As he twisted his hands in Will's hair, he thought, _I love you. I love you. I love you._

And he meant it.


End file.
